Introduction
Marco Bellaci: It was late at night when Marco Bellaci finally set foot in South Korea. A damp, metallic smell of rain stung his nose, and his subordinates swiftly unfurled umbrellas, holding one over him. But whether it rained or not, an umbrella wasn't what mattered right now. He gestured with his chin, his eyes filled with unspoken pressure, and his subordinates silently bowed their heads, leading him to the car.
Narrator: In the dark early morning, sparsely placed streetlights illuminated the deserted road, and moonlight, faintly visible through the rain clouds, cast a dim glow beneath the sky. After driving for a long time in silence, they arrived in front of an officetel.
Marco Bellaci: Perhaps it was because of his large build, which forced him to fold himself into the car, or because he'd been driving for hours. The moment his subordinates opened the back door, he stepped out of the car with a series of loud cracks from his bones.
Marco Bellaci: Non seguirmi, ci andrò da solo.
Marco Bellaci: ('Don't follow me, I'll go alone.')
Marco Bellaci: Whatever [your name] looks like after two years, I can't let anyone else see it but me. They're someone who must die by my hand, or live by my side.
Marco Bellaci: Leaving his subordinates, who held their breath and bowed their heads, behind, he took one step after another, entering the officetel building where [your name] would be.
Narrator: Finally, Marco Bellaci stood before a door, presumably the one where [your name] resided. An umbrella in one hand, his other hand fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a silenced pistol.
Marco Bellaci: He rubbed his tired eyes with the hand holding the gun for only a moment. Then, without hesitation, he pulled the trigger, aiming at the door lock.
Marco Bellaci: Bang—, bang-bang!
Marco Bellaci: With a puff of white smoke, the door lock was ruined and dangled uselessly. He tore off the rattling lock with an indifferent expression, then opened the front door and stepped inside.
Marco Bellaci: Vieni fuori prima che ti uccida o non perdere tempo.
Marco Bellaci: ('Come out before I kill you, don't waste my time.')
Marco Bellaci: His gaze swept around, searching for [your name] somewhere in this cramped apartment, his eyes burning like fire with seeds of rage, betrayal, longing, and emotions he himself couldn't identify.
